


Open Wide

by meiloslyther



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco, The Young Veins
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-01
Updated: 2009-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-19 10:20:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meiloslyther/pseuds/meiloslyther
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon is kind of obsessed with Ryan's mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Wide

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by pictures of Ryan's wide open mouth. And seriously, what is it with me and getting all voyeuristic about Ryan jacking off? Jeez.

How no one else ever noticed that Ryan kept his mouth open almost the whole time he played a show was beyond me. Of course, it could have just been the fact that I lived for Ryan's little oh-faces. Not that I'd know what his _real_ oh-face looked like, but I couldn't help but imagine it whenever Ryan closed his eyes and belted out his word or line, his jaw going slack, his body subtly moving with the music.

I mean seriously? Sometimes he just _looks_ like he's coming in his pants. Who could forget the end of Lying at Lollapalooza '06? He held that last note like a moan, grabbing the edge of his guitar like his life depended on it.

Not to mention the I-can't-keep-my-mouth-closed-to-put-on-makeup thing he does.

"What is it with girls and makeup? It's like they have to keep their mouths open to put it on or something. It's like, humanly impossible for them to keep it shut," I commented lightly from the dressing room couch as Ryan was putting his makeup on, his mouth wide open. "Oh, looks like you can't do it either, I guess."

He stopped what he was doing to close his mouth and glare at me in the mirror.

I bit my lip to keep myself from laughing at him as he went back to his task, mouth falling back open. "Don't catch a fly there, Ryan."

He finished his work and whirled around to face me. "If I wasn't worried about messing up your pretty face before a show, I'd seriously consider beating the shit out of you for that."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "It was a joke, Ross. Chill."

He just snorted and walked off.

The show that night was no different from any other. I caught him biting his lip at times, but other than that, I rarely saw his mouth closed. For the most part, his eyes stayed on his hands, watching where his left hand went on the neck of the guitar, making sure his fingers were placed just right. But sometimes I'd look over at him and his eyes would be closed, just letting the music guide him, letting the music flow through him. It was when he was like that that he sang his best, I thought. When his voice carried farther, louder, clearer.

"Why do you do that?" I asked later when we were on the bus, Jon and Spencer nowhere to be found.

"Do what?" he inquired innocently, raising both eyebrows at me. Even off stage his mouth never really closed all the way, his teeth just barely showing through slightly parted lips.

"Keep your mouth open when you play."

He blinked at me. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Your mouth was open for like, the whole show. I saw you, Ross."

His eyebrows went even higher, if that was possible. "You were _watching_ me?"

Shit. "No, pff."

He wasn't buying it, and a small smirk crept onto his face. "You were _watching_ me, Urie."

"I was not!"

"You were so totally watching me!" He shook his head at me, still grinning. "I _knew_ you were gay, Urie, I KNEW it."

How did this go from me asking about his mouth to him questioning my masculinity? Okay, point.

"Who said I was gay? I was watching you because I was curious about your _mouth_ , jeez." Okay, so that didn't make it any better.

He was openly laughing at me now. "Just admit you're gay already, Brendon. You've already gone too far to back out."

I set the coldest look I could manage on my face and glared at him. "I'm not gay."

His smile faltered a little. "Dude, you know I wouldn't care either way. Chill out."

"No, I'm not gonna chill out until you stop trying to tell me I'm gay."

He crossed his arms and I mocked him, raising my eyebrows in a challenge.

He finally threw his hands up after a few minutes and flopped down on the couch. "Whatever, okay? You're not gay. Even though staring at another guy is pretty out there, Bren."

I rolled my eyes, knowing I wasn't going to get anything better out of him, and sat down next to him. "Watching, not staring. There's a difference," I muttered.

Ryan made a noncommittal noise and grabbed the remote, turning on an old Scrubs rerun.

***

All of us guys practically live for hotel nights because honestly? Real beds that aren't moving totally win. Besides, there is a strict no-sex rule on the bus, which means either you learn to masturbate silently, or wait for hotel night.

Unfortunately, I was too loud to get away with it, so hotel nights for me were also hey-righty-damn-you're-looking-good-tonight nights. Sad, but true, I know. Also unfortunately, I was rooming with Ryan who ALWAYS took first shower. I huffed at him but let him have it; I personally didn't like a bitchy Ryan.

I was halfway through a random article in one of Spencer's magazines when I heard it. It only took me a moment to realize what it was — a moan — and only a few more seconds to recognize the voice that had made it; Ryan's.

I froze. Part of me wanted to leave the room so I wouldn't hear, and another part wanted to barge right into the bathroom and watch. Another moan came through the wall and my cock just _twitched_ , so I immediately sneaked up to the bathroom door to listen. It wasn't like he was being very loud, because I could just barely hear him over the sound of the water, but it reverberated off of the hard tile and the walls were very thin.

In my head I could just see him, naked and wet, his back to the wall, his left hand braced against the tile and his right wrapped around his cock. I could see his head tipped back against the wall, his eyes closed and his mouth open.

Okay, so I really needed to stop thinking about Ryan's mouth because now I was hard and listening to Ryan jerk off in the shower. Which was only serving to make me harder. Great.

Suddenly he let out a moan that sounded like a word — a name, I guessed — and that... well, that was just too hot.

"Fucking... son of a bitch," I muttered, hastily undoing my jeans and shoving a hand down the front of my boxers. I was so hard already that as soon as skin touched skin, I inhaled sharply and quickly covered my mouth with my left hand. If I could hear Ryan, I didn't want to be loud enough for him to hear me.

The next few moans sounded more nasally than the rest, like he was biting his lip, and the mental image that produced made my hand move even faster. My eyes were shut tight and I was concentrating so hard on keeping my own whimpers in the back of my throat that I almost missed Ryan coming.

"Bren-Brendon... ah!"

As soon as it registered in my head that Ryan had been thinking about me while jerking off, I was coming as well, my eyes flying wide open in surprise.

I stood there for a minute afterwards, my forehead resting against the doorframe, hand still covering my mouth, breathing heavily through my nose. My come was beginning to dry on my hand that was still wrapped around my already soft cock and all I could think was, " _Holy fucking shit_."

***

I couldn't believe it. Ryan didn't even _act_ like he was interested in me at all. Who can go from thinking about someone while they masturbate to acting like that same person annoys the living hell out of them? Apparently, Ryan Ross can.

"Brendon, sit the fuck down."

"What if I don't want to?"

"At least stop pacing, will you? It's distracting."

So maybe this whole situation was bothering me more than it should. Before he could say anything else, I went into the bunk area and threw myself into my bunk, pulling the curtain closed.

How does he even _do_ that?

***

The next show I watched Ryan even more closely. This time I caught him looking over at me; more than once.

"Okay, I know I interest you and everything, but stop _watching_ me, Urie."

"You were watching me too, so don't even start."

He fell quiet then, unable to think of a retort that justified himself.

"How about the both of you shut up and fuck each other already?" Spencer called from the bathroom of the dressing room. Jon just laughed from his spot on the couch and shook his head.

"Fuck you, Spence!" Ryan yelled, storming out of the dressing room. If my eyes weren't deceiving me, he was blushing.

I turned to Jon, eyebrow raised in a silent question.

"You're both kind of obvious," he replied with a shrug.

I sighed, rolled my eyes, and followed after Ryan.

"Leave me alone," Ryan muttered from his bunk as I climbed onto the bus.

I stepped into the bunk area and stood next to Ryan's bunk. "I'm sure Spencer was just kidding, Ry."

"He knows I hate it when he makes gay jokes about me." I couldn't see him, but it sounded as if he had his face buried in his pillow.

"Jon and I make gay jokes about you all the time and you don't freak out like this," I reasoned, gently pushing the curtain back. He was lying on his stomach, his long fingers gripping the pillow covering his head.

He was silent for a moment, as if he was thinking. "Yeah but... Spencer _knows_ me."

"And that's why him making gay jokes about you should be the least sincere. Because he knows that you aren't."

He ripped the pillow off his head and slammed it against the bed, looking up at me. "No, that's exactly why him making gay jokes about me hurts me more than you and Jon doing it."

"But if you aren't gay then-"

"That's the point, Brendon! I _am_ gay!" As soon as he said it, he flopped down and hid under his pillow again.

I stood there for a second thinking that it shouldn't have surprised me before I sat on the edge of his bunk, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. He flinched.

"Ry..."

"I don't want to hear it."

"You didn't even know what I was going to say."

He was silent, so I took it as my cue to go on. "It's okay, you know. It doesn't change how I think about you."

"Really?" He sounded hopeful.

"Yeah, of course." I eased his hand away from the pillow and slowly lifted it from his face. He looked me in the eye. "If it did, I'd be a hypocrite."

Confusion crossed his face. "So you...?"

"Not gay," I corrected his unspoken assumption. "Bi-curious, I guess you could call it."

"So your obsession with my mouth...?"

"That would be the curious part, yes," I laughed.

He gave me a crooked smile. "So do you just like my mouth or what?"

I briefly thought back to the last hotel night and _god, it's not just his mouth anymore_. "Um."

His smile faded and he sat up completely. "Bren?"

I brought my hand up to his face and cupped his jaw, dragging my thumb across his lower lip. "Can I kiss you?"

He covered my hand with his own and nodded, the corner of his lip curling again.

I swallowed and licked my bottom lip nervously before leaning in and softly pressing my lips to his. It was better than I would have guessed; Ryan's lips were smooth and soft, pressing back against mine perfectly. I barely touched my tongue to his lip before his mouth was falling open against mine, letting me in. I explored his mouth with my tongue, his own dancing around mine, pressing us together even more.

"God, when I said for you two to fuck already I didn't mean _on the bus_ , christ. Can't you two wait for hotel night?"

Ryan and I flew apart. Unfortunately, that action landed me on my ass in the middle of the floor looking up at a rather annoyed Spencer and a highly amused Jon. If I was a betting man, I would bet that my face was as red as it felt and that Ryan was curled up in his bunk hiding under his pillow again.

I smiled apologetically. "Is it time to leave already?"

Jon just laughed before turning to go back to the front of the bus.

Spencer rolled his eyes. "You two know the rules. Go any farther than second base and I'll have both of your asses," he warned before following Jon.

I sat up and looked in Ryan's bunk; I was right. "You okay, Ry?"

He peeked out from under the pillow. "Yeah, you?"

"I should be fine, I fall on my ass a lot." He laughed at that. "C'mon, let's go be sociable so they don't get the wrong idea," I added, offering my hand.

He took my hand and we followed Jon and Spencer into the kitchenette.

***

The air in the hotel room was thick, heavy. _This is what sexual tension really feels like_ , my brain supplied and I sighed loudly, making Ryan look over at me from the other end of the couch.

"What?"

"You're avoiding this, Ross. You know you are."

He frowned. "What are you talking about?" God, just watching him _talk_. I was so far in over my head.

"I know you want me. I was there that last hotel night."

He looked confused for a second before his eyes went wide. "You didn't."

"I did," I muttered, crawling over to straddle his lap. He didn't stop me. "I stood right outside that bathroom door and _touched myself_ listening to you."

His mouth was open in surprise, his eyes still wide and unblinking, completely speechless.

"Do you even have a clue how hot you are? How badly I want you?"

He blinked at that and shoved me off of him before standing, grabbing the front of my shirt, and dragging me over to one of the beds, throwing me down on it. He jumped on me then, holding me down, kissing me like there was no tomorrow.

I kissed back, smiling into it. Score one for Urie.  



End file.
